Tag Archives: longing

The Stars Pulling Off Their Masks

Smoking? When did I start smoking again?
Filterless Camels like before, one after another,
futile against stress, nerves and dead AM Channel static.
I realize I’m sitting alone again, looking down on the city,
waiting for it to beautiful in it’s distant, golden lights
as the sun goes down, and there another one in my fingers.
I don’t remember buying them. I don’t remember picking the habit
up again after all this time, and I don’t even remember driving here,
but here I am again, after work, not wanting to go home.
I sit on my car’s hood, windows down, an enveloping synthpop love song
playing, wrapping me in warmth and peace, like being hugged tightly
by a plump and soft woman, one who loves you dearly.
I stare out into the city lights coming up, the stars pulling off their masks,
and, as I work my way through the pack of smokes, dream of her,
the earth goddess, the one who plucks the strings of devotion, thrumming light.
The song plays on repeat. It is the first of autumn, and it’s growing chilly,
almost bitter as the sun fades away, but the cold is calming, peaceful,
reminds me of something lost, when all was well.
I cannot keep the Bad Thoughts away forever, not with the city lights,
the stars showing me their faces, or the beautiful, embracing love song.
The come again and again, and maybe the stress is why I forget so much.
One last cigarette, and then I’ll have to face the room without treasures,
the thoughts that intrude like a rude neighbor couple screaming at each other
at 3 AM, hating each other, unable to leave and unable to stop.
I try to hold onto her, and the music, and all the sweet and innocent things
that slip away from me, harder and harder to call back all the time.
I try to imagine kissing her, warm and pale lips. I try to imagine being full of love,
Like her.

Her Picture

I carry her picture,
 keep it safe,
 and look at her
 by the light of the moon.
I’ve memorized every
 line of her body,
 the pattern of her dress,
 the glimmer in her eye.
She’s said we’d marry
 when I come back home,
 that she’d have my child
 and we’d have a home.
Yet each day is a struggle,
 each day is filled with darkness.
 If I never come back home
 will she lay a rose on my grave?
Her picture kept safe.
 She is all I live for now.
 To feel her arms around me.
 To be safe in her embrace.

Carolina Coast

There is nothing behind I say, trying to erase it from my thoughts.
There is no where back there I say, trying to make myself clean.
This bus is headed east, to the Carolina Coast and no one I know.
I watch the trees and the winding mountain roads, knowing less.
No good trying to repair the past or replay the choices I made then.
Just reminds you how small you are and what loss has done to you.
Leave those faces and those streets and maybe start again down the road.
Maybe I’ll be a good man and a worthwhile lover in a city by the grey Atlantic Ocean.
I dream of a woman, young and bright, with black hair and bangs, a sweet smile.
I dream of a life where I am the Paladin and Savior I always wanted to be.
I dream and sleep and dream and listen to a baby cry, the mother try to soothe it.
I dream I can start again, make something new, not the same fucking mistakes.
Down the mountain highway, towards a place I don’t know, where I’m not known.
I imagine the sound of surf crashing and the tang of salt in the ocean breeze.
I’ll sit awhile on those sands, and watch the waters churn, white caps astray.
Let her be here. Let me find her. Let me really leave the past behind forever.